


cats and dogs don't reign (they're poor)

by VanillaIsNotPlain



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Backstory, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Inspired By Tumblr, Meta, alternate viewpoint, flawed perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 12:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13054209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaIsNotPlain/pseuds/VanillaIsNotPlain
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri has anxiety.Yuri Plisetsky doesn’t - and that’s the one thing he can’t forgive.





	cats and dogs don't reign (they're poor)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Tumblr post [The importance of the Katsukis](http://lilithkvonbeilschmidt.tumblr.com/post/164422500967/the-importance-of-the-katsukis) by [lilithkvonbeilschmidt](http://lilithkvonbeilschmidt.tumblr.com/); this is not meant to contradict anything in it, but to add another perspective, however flawed, that I couldn’t stop thinking about.

Katuski Yuuri has anxiety.

No one tells him directly, not in so many words. But Yuri isn’t stupid. He knows - in his head ( _Yuri was never good at his heart_ ) that it isn’t Katsudon’s fault, that it is something he always has to struggle with. But that washroom cry at Sochi? That was the last effing straw. 

Perhaps, he tries to tell himself, it’s inevitable. Yuri is a cat person. Hell, he practically is one himself. He embodies the pinnacle of feline grace and haughty disdain. And Katsudon… apparently he likes dogs. Especially poodles. Especially poodles that are a smaller, wimpier version of Viktor’s poodle (ugh, way to be obvious, moron). Anyway, maybe it is all just a misalignment of personalities, a mere quirk of their personas that just rubs each other the wrong way  _(but Yuri has never been good at lying to himself_ ). 

Every time Yuri looks at him, every time he sees him slide, blink, jump, snore, laugh, run, eat, fall, dance, cry, hug, cower, mesmerize, demand, shrink, dare, breathe. Every time, there is one thing that Yuri wants to say, to yell, to scream, to rant and rave and shriek into his pathetic face until there is no way he can remain ignorant. 

But every time, Yuri chokes it back. He scoffs, he clicks his tongue and kicks half-heartedly at his shins. He lashes out briefly and quickly, a slash of retracted claws, a flash-fire that sizzles once and then goes out, self-contained and safe ( _safe as any fire could ever be, and just as impermanent_ ). 

And that was because, unlike what some might say, Yuri is not a brat. He has self-control. And, most importantly, he knows.

Yuri knows he is fortunate. He does not have clinical anxiety, nor depression (Yuri isn’t sure, but he suspects Yuuri struggles with that too). He has a grandfather, one that he would never trade for anything in this world or any other. He has a bright, beautiful gift for skating, one that opens so many doors for him. He has an affectionate cat (as affectionate as cats can be, Potya cannot defy her nature), a smartphone, caring and talented coaches and rinkmates, and dedicated, adoring (terrifying) fans that would die twice over for his sake. Yuri knows that not everyone had these things, that he should be grateful (and he is). 

But - 

But - 

But the other Yuuri. 

Katsuki Yuuri has a whole town devoted to cheering for solely his career. Yuri can still hear Hasetsu’s devoted cries for their own ace at the Onsen on Ice, pouring their hearts and love for their hometown hero. ( _“Just smile for the media, Yuratchka. It doesn’t matter what you’re feeling,” said Viktor. A practiced careless swipe of silver fringe, sharp spray of flashes pop-snapping off heart-shaped blinding grin "You’re practically me; they’re sure to love you.“_ )

Yuuri has childhood friends, who stick by his side even with the terrible neglect of all his social media accounts. Yuri notices the affection in Nishigori Takeshi’s punches and the sparkle reserved on for her nakajimi in Yuuko’s warm brown eyes. ( _Whatever happened to that dark, silent boy who came and stared at Yuri when he wasn’t looking, but struggled nobly alone with the easiest forms when he did? He’d never come back after that one ballet camp. Yuri thought they’d have made good friends. Stealthy dark eyes reflected in the mirrors above the barre - could they in another life  have glittered for him?)_

Yuuri has a strong, understanding older sister, who stayed behind and supported their family so that Yuuri could fly away, secure, even to the other side of the globe. ( _"Skate for your grandfather,” Georgi advised. “That’s what I do for Anya.”_

_But Anya wasn’t alone in an inpatient recovery room after spinal surgery, with her only living relative hundreds of kilometers away._ )

Yuuri does not have anyone who teases him, persisting in belittling him despite his vehement protests. ( _“Don’t be so defensive, Yura,” Mila giggled, lifting him effortlessly and spinning him in circles. “It’s just the way you are. If you don’t like it, stand up for yourself, and JJ will stop.”_ )

Yuuri has the independence of adulthood, but still the safety net of a financially stable home, one that can provide for him while he studied abroad, and even when he slunk back, on the brink of retirement and jobless. ( _“If your grandfather says not to worry where the money’s coming from, then don’t worry about it,” Yakov barked gruffly. “You have better things to concern yourself with. From the top!”_ )

Yuuri has two parents - two! Together! Living and breathing! ( _Lilia never said anything. Not even when Yuri fell._

_Yuri didn’t know which was worse - the prickle of her unblinking eyes gazing at him dispassionately as he picked himself back up, or the imagined strong but slender steel band of her arms stealing around him, comforting him with security after the crash. He didn’t know how that last one would feel like, but he could guess. He could tell she was wondering too._

_Lilia sometimes had a mother’s eyes, but she did not have his mother’s arms._ )

And still, even with all this, this piece of trash had the utter gall to fall to pieces over the death of his dog. His effing dog.

You have to understand - Potya was not Yuri’s first cat. 

Like Yuuri, he’d gotten a call, just before one of his junior competitions ( _It was his routine, to talk to his grandfather over the phone before heading out to the ice. And this news wasn’t something, with Yuri’s perceptive questions, that Nikolai could hide._

_Yuri didn’t call before competitions anymore_ ).

When Yuri heard the news, he felt - 

Absolutely nothing.

( _Actually, that was a lie. He did feel something. It was very faint, very small. Like a shivering, wispy ghost, that gathered itself through sheer force of will - and poofed into nothing._

_It did not come back._ )

Why did he feel nothing?

Because a pet wasn’t a parent.

It’s hard to feel sympathy for someone who’s mourning the one without the other. The scale’s too different. It’s like Jupiter comforting a broken asteroid ( _They’d be crushed_ ). Like a mother whale embracing a lost sparrow ( _They’d be silenced_ ).

( _“Sure, we can take you to skating practice. But why can’t your parents?”_

_The first time, little Yuri had stopped dead still at that question._

_It wasn’t any easier, the many times afterwards._ )

But even after that, Yuri still watches. And he thinks maybe, it makes sense, in a weird, twisted way, that Katsudon would immolate himself over a dead dog.

Because, in many ways, Katsuki Yuuri is a dog himself.

Every emotion he feels, every high and low, immediately overwhelms him. He bounds back and forth, completely at their mercurial control. Nothing he thinks or does on his own was enough. He needs the constant affirmation of others. 

People often described dogs as a safe surety, a solid comfort in their lives. But cats know. Dogs are not solid. They belong to the gaseous phase: they expand and contract to fill the shape of those who surround them. And for dogs like Katsudon, there’d always be someone or other for them, somehow, giving space or drawing close, just as they’re needed. ( _Cats do not need anyone. They’re efficient like that; kinder too. That way, no one is left wondering._ )

It’s borderline emetic, Yuri thinks disdainfully, looking down his nose from high above. Like a tiger, tail languidly twitching, observing from afar the meaningless howls of the wolf. The moon is cold and distant and will never be moved by selfless serenades. ( _Cats know. Cats are neither solid like humans nor gas like dogs: cats are amorphous liquid, slipping between your fingers should you dare to attempt tying them down. They may lose some of themselves in the process, but at least that is on their own terms, not yours._

_They will never grant others the power to hurt them ever again._ )

But one day, like a fairytale, the silver moon did listen and fall to earth.

Now Yuuri possessed even the moon.

But when even Viktor, even the man who threw everything away for him and who stayed by him through hell and high water, who understood and accepted him for who he was ( _like a father-brother-childhood friend-whatever else that was beautiful and perfect and alive and there and so necessary and oh so so impossible for Yuri, Yuri who just couldn’t keep people, they’d all leave him eventually, yes, even dedushka, no no don’t think about that_ ) when even Viktor wasn’t enough to quell the insecurity and the fear -

That’s when Yuri grabbed Yuuri by the shoulders, shouted in his face where there was no escape, no evasion left. He raged and stormed and pleaded and asked why 

_Why, when you have everything I ever dreamed of, everything I ever needed -_

_You, who your entire blissful, surreal, perfect life were surrounded by every thing that I would have gladly given up all I possess for, in less than a heartbeat -_

_**If even you cannot be happy -**  _

**Then how in the nine hells can I**

But of course Yuri never did that.

He knows Yuuri is fighting, fighting hard, against his own demons, even if Yuri can’t see them. The raging tiger can’t know the howling wolf’s silver scars beneath sable ( _And the pack-bound wolf can’t realize the carmine dripping from the snarling_ lonely _tiger’s fangs isn’t from prey_ ). 

Neither is superior to the other. Both of their roles take courage.

But still, sometimes, Yuri can’t help wishing that Yuuri could be a little braver.

Just for him. 

It’s so hard hoping alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted on Tumblr and FF dot net. [vanillaisnotplain on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vanillaisnotplain)


End file.
